Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
SCARLETT
E ven my throne room has changed.
It's immediately apparent as Ravenna and I enter, her hand still clasped firmly in mine. The marble floors—once a perfect checkerboard—now display subtle patterns within each square. More blood sigils, like those that protect Darkmore, are emerging in faint outlines on the black tiles, while the white ones have developed swirling patterns reminiscent of the veins in a beating heart. The roses adorning the walls have transformed completely, their blooms a perfect blend of red and black, their thorns longer and sharper than before. The kingdom feels more alive than ever.
My advisors notice none of this. They fall silent as we enter, bowing deeply. Their eyes linger on our joined hands, but none comment. Not even the Duchess, who typically offers opinions as freely as others offer greetings.
"Rise," I command, moving toward the throne with Ravenna beside me. "We have much to discuss and little time to waste."
The Gryphon steps forward first. His golden feathers catch the light, their subtle gleam a reminder of why he's so valuable for reconnaissance—he can look both magnificent and invisible, depending on how the sun hits him.
"My Queen," he addresses me, then glances at Ravenna, hesitating before adding, "My Queens . Our scouts report a substantial force gathering at the eastern border. Different from Edmund's iron legion—these appear to be creatures rather than soldiers. Unnatural things that should not exist in any of our kingdoms."
"Mara's corruption taking on a physical form?" Ravenna murmurs, her voice pitched for my ears alone. Aloud to the court, she asks, "How many?"
The Gryphon's eagle eyes narrow slightly at being addressed directly by Darkmore's queen, but he answers without hesitation. "Hundreds, perhaps a thousand at most. They move as a cohesive unit despite their chaotic appearance. Some resemble Underland's native creatures but... distorted. Others are unrecognizable entirely."
I feel Ravenna's concern through our bond, her mind already racing through defensive possibilities. My own thoughts mirror hers, our strategic considerations aligning with barely a word exchanged.
"The card-soldiers?" I ask, turning to the Knave of Hearts, who commands my military forces.
He straightens, his paper-thin form rustling slightly. "Ten regiments ready, Your Majesty. The hearts, diamonds, and spades at the eastern border; the clubs securing the castle. We've also employed the chess pieces as secondary defense at critical points." He hesitates, then adds, "There is... something unusual to report, however."
"Speak," I command.
"The cards are changing, My Queen. Their edges have become sharper, their forms more durable."
This information doesn't surprise me, given the transformations we've already observed.
Ravenna and I exchange glances. The unification of our magic is strengthening Underland's defenses, making my card-soldiers more like her shadow-warriors while maintaining their unique characteristics.
"The magical creatures?" I ask, turning to the White Rabbit, who maintains relations with Underland's more unusual inhabitants.
He checks his pocket watch nervously before answering. "Most have chosen to stand with you, Your Majesty. Even those who typically avoid conflict understand the threat Queen Mara poses. The Jabberwock has positioned itself at the Wood, ready to intercept any forces that penetrate our eastern border. The bandersnatch packs are patrolling the outlying regions. Even the flowers have agreed to serve as the eyes and ears. They’ll report back to us if needed."
The news is better than I expected. I turn to address the March Hare, who oversees the kingdom's pathways. "The roads and passages?"
"Reconfigured as you instructed, My Queen. The primary paths now lead potential invaders into prepared ambush points. The secret passages remain accessible only to those with your magical signature—" he pauses, glancing at Ravenna, "—or Queen Ravenna's."
"Good," I say, addressing the entire court. "Return to your posts. Strengthen defenses, prepare your respective domains for attack. We will join you shortly to coordinate the final preparations."
They bow and withdraw without another word, leaving Ravenna and me alone in the throne room. The moment the doors close, I let out a sigh, allowing myself to breathe deeply for the first time since we arrived at the castle.
"Your court accepts my presence remarkably well," Ravenna observes.
"They sense the changes," I reply, moving to the window that overlooks the gardens. "Even if they don't fully understand them."
"Your command style is different," Ravenna notes, coming to stand beside me. "Less theatrical, more direct. You're not ruling through fear today."
I hadn't noticed the change, but she's right. I've issued no threats, ordered no executions, displayed none of the calculated cruelty that once defined my rule. Yet my court obeyed without hesitation, possibly with even greater efficiency.
"Perhaps I no longer need fear as a tool," I muse, watching a flamingo fly past, its crystalline feathers now veined with deep red that matches the roses. "Not when authority flows naturally with you at my side."
Ravenna's hand brushes mine, the brief contact sending a spark between us. "Balance," she says softly. "Your power tempered by mine, my restraint loosened by yours."
I turn to face her fully, struck once again by how different she appears in Underland's bright light. Her pale skin has taken on a subtle glow. The blue of her eyes contains flecks of green that match my own. She is still unmistakably the Queen of Darkmore, yet somehow more vibrant, more present . Like she’s been brought back to life.
"So what's our next move?" I ask, forcing my thoughts back to the immediate threat. "Mara's forces gather at our border, but they haven't attacked yet. Why wait?"
"She's gauging the changes," Ravenna suggests, her strategic mind working alongside mine. "Testing how our unified magic responds, how it affects our kingdoms. Perhaps even hoping to determine which of us is the dominant force."
"As if either of us could dominate the other," I reply with a small smile, the words carrying more meaning than I initially intended.
A flash of amusement crosses her face, along with something darker that makes my heart beat faster. "Indeed. We seem destined for partnership rather than dominance."
The word partnership hangs between us, its implications extending beyond military alliance or magical connection. But before I can respond, a familiar voice interrupts.
"Partners, allies, lovers , queens." The Cheshire Cat materializes in segments near my throne, his grin appearing first, followed by his striped body, and finally his swishing tail. "So many labels, so little understanding of what truly binds you."
"Cat," I acknowledge, unsurprised by his appearance. He has a habit of arriving precisely when matters reach critical junctures. "I assume you bring more than riddles today?"
His grin widens impossibly. "Riddles contain truths for those clever enough to unravel them, Queen of Hearts. But yes, I bring history as well as mystery." He floats lazily toward us, his body undulating in impossible ways. "Tell me, what do you know of the founding queens?"
Ravenna answers before I can. "Sisters who once ruled a unified kingdom before discord divided them. Their separation created the three kingdoms and split magic into distinct forms—heart, blood, and iron."
"Sisters, yes," the Cat agrees, his tail flicking thoughtfully. "But not merely siblings of circumstance. They were triplets, born of a single womb, sharing a single magical essence before they drew their first breath."
I exchange a startled glance with Ravenna. "Triplets?" I repeat. "This wasn't recorded in any historical text I've encountered."
"History is written by those who wish to forget as much as by those who wish to remember," the Cat replies enigmatically. "The triplets—Cordelia, Morgana, and Elara—were initially a single consciousness expressed through three bodies. Their magic flowed between them freely, strengthening rather than dividing. They were, in essence, a perfect magical circuit."
"What changed?" Ravenna asks, moving closer to me as if instinctively seeking connection.
The Cat's form becomes more substantial, a sign he considers this information vital. "Betrayal," he says simply. "Elara believed she could— should —control the entirety of their shared magic. She discovered an ancient pool deep beneath what would become her kingdom, a source of transformation that predated even the triplets' birth. She drank from it in secret, hoping to amplify her third of their shared power."
"The same pool Mara has found," I realize, the pieces falling into place.
"The very same," the Cat confirms. "But the pool was never meant to augment individual power. It was created to facilitate balance, transformation, unity. Used by one triplet alone, it became corrupted, mutating Elara's magic."
"So Cordelia and Morgana had to sever the connection," Ravenna concludes, understanding dawning in her expression. "They sundered the bond between the three of them to prevent complete corruption of all magic."
"Precisely!" The Cat spins in midair, pleased by our comprehension. "The sundering wasn't merely division—it was protection . By separating their once-unified magic into distinct forms—heart, blood, and iron—they contained Elara's corruption within Ironwood, preventing it from consuming all three kingdoms."
"That's why iron suppresses magic," I say as understanding continues to unfold. "It's not suppression at all—it's containment. Ironwood's power turned inward, focused on preventing corruption from spreading rather than expressing itself outwardly."
"Clever queens," the Cat purrs approvingly. "Yes, Ironwood's 'suppression' of magic is actually the oldest protective spell in existence, maintained across generations by Elara's descendants. A painful but necessary sacrifice."
"Until Edmund," Ravenna says quietly. "Until Mara found the pool and corrupted him, breaking the containment that had held for centuries."
The Cat's grin fades slightly, his eyes growing serious. "History repeats itself in cycles. Elara's betrayal, Mara's corruption—patterns echoing across generations." His gaze moves between us, unusually direct. "But you two represent something new. Heart and blood magic reuniting willingly, equally."
"And the mirror's prophecy?" Ravenna asks. "That one queen must fall?"
The Cat floats closer, circling us slowly. "Consider this: three queens existed at the beginning. Three magical traditions. Three kingdoms. Perfect balance requires the completion of that triangle."
"But Mara has corrupted her portion of the magic," I object. "She's broken the potential for balance."
"Indeed," the Cat agrees, his tail curling questioningly. "So what must happen to restore it?"
The answer comes to both of us simultaneously, our connection allowing the realization to flow between our minds without words.
"One queen must fall," Ravenna whispers. "Not one of us—"
" Mara ," I finish. "The corrupted third must be removed for balance to be restored."
"The cycle of betrayal must be broken," the Cat says, beginning to fade from view. "Three became two to prevent corruption. Two might become whole to heal what was sundered. But the third remains a threat as long as corruption flows through her veins."
"Wait," I call as he continues disappearing. "How do we defeat her? How do we restore balance without sacrificing ourselves?"
His grin is the last to vanish, hanging in the air like a crescent moon. "Look to the Blood Tree and its new sapling. The answer grows where heart and blood magic already unite."
And then he's gone, leaving us with more questions than answers, yet with a crucial piece of understanding. The prophecy refers to Mara, not to either of us. The queen who must fall is already lost to the darkness.
"A sapling," Ravenna murmurs, her mind working alongside mine. "The Blood Tree has never reproduced before. It exists only in Darkmore, passed down through generations of my family."
"Yet if the Cat speaks true, it has sprouted in Underland," I conclude. "We need to find it."
We move toward the door, purpose renewed by this revelation. But before we can exit the throne room, a card-soldier bursts in, his paper form bent with exertion.
"Your Majesties!" he gasps. "The eastern border—Mara's forces—they're advancing!"
Through the open windows, a distant horn sounds—the signal from our outermost sentries that battle is imminent.
Ravenna's hand finds mine once more, our magics buzzing instantly. "We'll find the sapling when we have time," she says, determination hardening her voice. "Right now, we have a kingdom to defend."
Our kingdom , I think but don't say aloud, the distinction between Underland and Darkmore becoming increasingly meaningless. As we hurry toward the eastern defenses, I feel our power building, preparing for the confrontation ahead.
The queen who falls will not be either of us. Of that, I am suddenly, completely certain.